


dance with my father

by emorosadiaz



Series: for all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you [5]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emorosadiaz/pseuds/emorosadiaz
Summary: Drax had insisted Gamora was not a dancer, but now that Peter knows she is, indeed, a dancer, she decides to open up to him about how that came to be.





	dance with my father

**Author's Note:**

> So this is pretty emotional !!!! I wrote it super late last night and, uh, may have shed a few tears along the way, because dad feels always get to me......ANYWAY, yeah, this originated as a [headcanon](http://pikapegasus.tumblr.com/post/162444710796/another-sad-starmora-headcanon-gamora-does-know) I posted on tumblr like last week, which is based on [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdYheQKgLBM).

_If I could steal one final glance, one final step, one final dance with him, I’d play a song that would never, ever end, ‘cause I’d love, love, love to dance with my father again._

* * *

She doesn’t realize she’s falling until she bumps into the table, attempting to catch herself. It’s an admittedly ungraceful display, but she ignores the heat rising to her cheeks as she rubs her sore hip. 

“Whoa, Gamora, are you okay?” Peter asks quickly, gently placing his hands on her waist as if to steady her. “Are you dizzy or something?”

The soft melody of Peter’s beloved Sam Cooke fills the background. Gamora blinks quickly, shaking her head and snapping herself out of her daze.

“I’m fine,” she says, gently pushing Peter’s hands away. “It’s—it’s okay. It’s nothing. Sorry. I just…tripped.”

But he doesn’t look very convinced, simply staring at her. “You? Tripping over your own two feet? That’s _possible?_ ”

“I’m not—it’s not—“ She cuts herself off with a small, irritated huff. “Never mind.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, his hands awkwardly hovering over her, ready to hold her again. “Um…maybe that’s enough dancing for tonight, then.”

He turns to stop the Zune where it’s sitting on the counter, but she catches his arm. Guilt claws at her heart whenever he’s put off by something she says, whether she meant it or not, and she knows dancing is as personal to him as it is to her.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, her grip loosening. “I just got distracted. That’s all. We can keep dancing.”

“Why don’t we take a break first?” he suggests, gesturing to the chairs at the table. “I don’t want you doing that…’tripping’ thing again.”

They sit down next to each other. She leans her arm on the table, pressing her lips together.

Though the Quadrant has considerably more space than the Milano, it’s still challenging to get complete privacy sometimes. (Though, neither she nor Peter are sure how much of that is the result of being in too close of proximity to five other people, or simply the result of said five other people all being nosey assholes who _refuse_ to allow them time to spend alone together.)

So that’s how the two of them usually end up sneaking to the kitchen for late night dances, which has become more of a regular occurrence recently. Now that Gamora’s big secret about dancing is out, Peter loves taking advantage of it to both spend more time with her _and_ to dance to his favorite (and some new, thanks to the variety on the Zune) songs.

And, if she’s being honest with herself, it pleases her almost as much as it does him.

Peter lets the silence draw out for about thirty seconds before meeting her eyes. “So…what distracted you?”

A flutter of _something_ fills her chest, and she recognizes it as the longtime anxiety that’s dwelled within her, accompanying the slowly dwindling memories of a life before Thanos. She takes a deep breath. “I was just thinking about the next job we should take.”

Okay, it should be noted that before Peter’s dumb ass came along, she was one of the galaxy’s leading figures in the art of lying and deceiving.

But now Peter just looks through her completely, almost effortlessly, and she resists the urge to groan in frustration. He raises an eyebrow.

“We need something Rocket can’t blow up,” she continues, barely containing a grimace at her weak lie. “Somewhere without tiny places Groot can run into and hide.”

“Uh huh,” he agrees half-heartedly, looking at her pointedly.

“People Drax can’t offend easily,” she says, briefly averting her eyes because, _wow_ , this is probably _the_ shittiest lie she’s ever told, and she knows that he knows.

“Gamora,” he says all too patiently.

“People that Rocket can’t offend either,” she adds, meeting Peter’s eyes. “We don’t need a repeat of the Sovereign anytime soon. Or ever.”

“Gamora,” he repeats, drawing it out like part of a song.

“We need…” she trails off, holding her hands together in her lap. Her fingers nervously tap against one another. “I saw one that I think would be good on my holo earlier, I can go—“

“Please stay,” he says, laying a hand on her knee. “And please tell me what’s _really_ going on. No more secrets, remember?”

Right. The promise had been something of a lifeline she’d thrown to him during the days immediately following Ego, when Peter tried to conceal his feelings about everything that had happened and struggled under the stress of it.

“No more secrets.” She exhales softly, glancing down at her lap briefly. “I was distracted by some memories. Old memories, from—from _before_. It’s not a big deal.”

“What were you remembering?” he asks, leaning against his arm propped up on the table.

“It was a happy memory,” she says, allowing a small smile to form on her face. “I thought of my father.”

They’ve reached the point now where there’s no questioning who her “father” is when she speaks of her past, because Thanos is just _Thanos_ , he’s no father, never has been. Her father is _her father_ , from a life long ago.

“While we were dancing?”

She nods. “He’s the reason I know how to dance.”

Her words hang between them for several moments, Peter watching her quietly.

“He taught me,” she adds, though she knows he doesn’t need explicit clarification. “Though I was determined to become this… _warrior_ as a young child, he still insisted on teaching me the basics of dancing. He’d twirl me around, even let me stand on his feet while we danced, so I could be taller.”

She trails off with a sigh, swallowing against the lump forming in her throat. The memories have faded gradually over the years, becoming less and less clear. She can’t quite exactly remember the feeling of her father’s hands grasping hers, or his scent, or even his _voice_.

Twirling with him is there, though. Along with the feeling of his feet under hers, her young laughter filling the space between them. He just smiles down at her and—

She quickly swipes a hand over each of her eyes and shakes her head. “Sorry. It’s a happy memory, like I said. It’s just been a while since I danced this much, I suppose.”

When she looks at Peter again, he’s just staring at her, his lips parted slightly.

“Gamora, that’s…” He pauses, as if searching for the words. There’s a sense of panic in his eyes. “I’m— _shit—_ I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how personal this was for you. I shouldn’t have pushed you to dance so much, I’m _sorry_ —"

“No, Peter, this is _good_ ,” she cuts in, laying a hand over his. “Really. It’s really good. I _want_ to dance again. I kept it hidden for a long time, because it was just too painful, the idea of dancing with someone who _wasn’t_ him, and I would give _anything_ to just get _one_ more dance with him, but—but I want to dance with you, too, Peter. It’s not… _painful_ when we dance together, it’s…it makes me _happy_ , like I used to feel with my father.”

He gapes at her. “Are—are you sure? If it’s too much, Gamora—“

“It’s not,” she reassures him. “My father taught me to dance so I could share it with somebody someday, you know. Terrans aren’t the only species that enjoys dancing.”

(She recalls watching her parents dance together in various parts of their home occasionally, not unlike the way she and Peter do now, whenever they get the chance.)

(Perhaps, someday, she’ll relay those memories to Peter, but it’s a little too much right now.)

“You’re a great dancer,” he says playfully, his voice catching on the words. “Your dad taught you well.”

“He’d have loved to hear that,” she says, and, _shit_ , she has to wipe at her eyes again. “You two would have gotten along really well.”

“Really?” Peter leans back, regaining some of his composure. His voice is lined with pride. “Well, good to know I would’ve passed the test that dads always put their daughters’ boyfriends through. I think I’m a pretty good boyfriend, don’t you think?”

She scrunches her nose at the word “boyfriend.” “You’re slightly above average.”

He lays a hand over his chest. “You wound me, babe.”

She laughs a little, sniffling. He grins, turning over the hand she’s covering so their palms are touching. He wraps his fingers around her hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry you can’t dance with your dad anymore,” he says softly—carefully, in a way. “I wish there was a way you could do it again, but…all I can say for now is thank you, for trusting me with something so precious to you.”

“You’ve been sharing something precious to you with me from the start,” she reminds, gesturing to his Zune, which is currently playing the familiar tune of “Father and Son,” of all songs. “I wanted to share something with you in return.”

He sighs. “I wish we had parents. _Alive_ parents.”

It’s a pretty pathetic statement, but it’s the most honest, _relatable,_ pathetic statement she’s heard in a while. She can’t help the small laugh that spills from her lips at the words, and he follows suit with a few teary chuckles.

“At least we don’t have to be alone anymore,” she murmurs. “We have each other.”

“Yeah.” He nods.

They allow the quiet moment, if only for the chance to collect themselves from such a heavy conversation. She swipes at her eyes for the final time, feeling clear again, as he sniffles, standing up and offering her his hand.

“On that note, I hope it’s not too soon for a dance?” he says, his voice quivering. She smiles.

“It’s never too soon,” she says, taking his hand and standing with him.

After changing the song on the Zune to one more suited for dancing, Peter places his hands on Gamora’s hips and pulls her in, until she’s pressed up against him. She drapes her arms loosely around his neck, resting her forehead against his as they begin to sway to the beat.

* * *

A couple of days later, while Peter’s out for the day with the others, Gamora stays behind on the ship with Groot. When she finally coaxes him into taking a nap, she returns to the sleeping quarters she shares with Peter, surprised to find the Zune on the bed. Peter usually takes it with him everywhere. 

She grabs it and the accompanying earbuds, turning on the screen. A song she doesn’t recognize is queued up. Curious after reading the title, she sticks the earbuds into her ears and presses play, carefully adjusting the volume.

“ _Back when I was a child, before life removed all the innocence…_ ”

By the second verse, she’s curled up against the headboard on the bed, carefully brushing tears away with the backs of her fingers.

She’ll have to thank Peter later.

* * *

 

_Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream._

**Author's Note:**

> I figured the original song by Luther Vandross may be on the Zune, because when I asked my parents about the Zune in Vol. 2, they said it was a thing back in the early 2000s (only to then get rekt by the iPod lmaooooo), which is when "Dance With My Father" first came out!
> 
> Anyway, yeah, idk where this came from either. All I know is I never really danced with my dad as a kid like other people do, but I'm super duper close with him, and it's one of the things that made this past year (my first year of college) a tricky emotional transition. Much love to my dad, who's provided me with fun memories that inspire a lot of my writing. 
> 
> Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://pikapegasus.tumblr.com/ask), maybe send a prompt or two!


End file.
